Bittersweet Vengeance
by Kittengrl39
Summary: Short and sweet Miriallia x Tolle story. Things changed for Miriallia when Fllay pointed that gun. Can she really afford to hate? Really just an excuse to get Miriallia into a Greek shift. R&R, please.


Yah… I really have no excuse for this. It just popped into my head one day after lunch and wouldn't leave me alone. Spent the better part of a year waiting for the episode mentioned to come on, only to miss it.(cries) So, apologies if the dialogue isn't exactly accurate.

(has issues with QuickEdit) Please review. This is my first post in a long time.

Note: I recently learned that Meer is the name of a new character in Gundam SEED destiny. I had no idea of this when I wrote this fic, so any mention of Meer is just Miriallia's nickname. And yes, that does have significance. ;)

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Bittersweet Vengeance

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Meer sighed as the door slid shut behind her. It had been a long day at the consoles, only to come back to an empty room. But work of a different sort awaited her tonight.

Meer turned out the lights, leaving only the faint glow of the emergency lights on. She swept into the bathroom to change.

_If a person has only one trait enhanced, are they still a Coordinator?_

Miraillia took out some old books from her foot locker. She ran her hands over pictures of her mother, grandmother, great-grandmother.

_Selective breeding is just another kind of Coordination, albeit over time._

_**ahn el nat… who's there? triste…hetep al, gis ra… heiwa…lyan lior… to breathe… kira kira… ti yu, sol el…**_

Whispers of words filled her mind, emanating from the books, which seemed to glow softly of their own, internal light. Memories tracing back over the centuries bubbled up in her mind.

She rose and knelt in the middle of the room. Her clothes - a bedsheet she had manipulated to imitate a Greek linen shift - gave her a sense of freedom as they sighed softly. She had spent days learning the navigation of this room in the dark for just this purpose.

Meer closed her eyes. She hadn't been planning to do this ritual. She'd wanted to hold on to her vengeance for a long time.

But now?

_"What, did your Natural boyfriend die or something?" The captive smirked at Meer. Hatred coursed through her veins, and she saw red. With sudden strength she grabbed the knife from the serving tray and held it above the enemy soldier, thinking only of getting that smirk off his face..._

But now?...

_"All of you Coordinators will get what you deserve!" Something broke within Meer and she flung herself at Fllay, seeing her friend's face twisted in hate, seeing the terrified eyes of the Coordinator-_

Miraillia opened her eyes and began to sing.

It was a long-forgotten song, taught to her as a child and passed down through generations. Thin and sad and beautiful, it rose high throughout the darkened cabin. The walls - though she knew they were only metal - seemed to stretch and darken, like a moss-covered cave.

Slowly a form began to appear in the center of the room. It shimmered uncertainly for a bit, then took on the shape of Tolle.

Miraillia rose and danced, still singing. Her feet skimmed the floor, barely touching it. The Tolle-shape grew more detailed and finally opened its eyes, staring around at everything in surprise. Miraillia glanced at it and hoped he would understand. If she stopped singing for even a moment, the shade would disappear.

Tolle watched her, and nearly opened his mouth to ask a question, but seemed to understand at the last minute and merely fell back, a smile on his face. Miraillia danced ever closer to him and finally paused, her voice rising into a crescendo. Then, with a supreme effort of will, she leaned over and kissed him while holding the high note.

The melody descended and she pulled back reluctantly. She swept into the final portion of the dance as Tolle's ghost became more indistinct. As he faded back into the spirit world, she thought she could see a green-haired boy smile and shake his hand. Then the last note vibrated into silence, and the visions vanished.

Miraillia stood there for a time, feeling the aftereffects of the ritual and making her peace. Finally she sighed, cleared away the books and went to change into her pajamas.

It was something her family had done, something long ago. The hidden talent that all women in her family possessed.

Maybe Lacus would understand, she thought, and smiled. Lacus of the golden voice and Dylanistic songs for peace.

Meer got into bed and promptly fell asleep, preparing herself for the battles ahead.

-----OWARI-----

Review!


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